


Shelter In Place

by foolsdance



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Slavery, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolsdance/pseuds/foolsdance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When civilization crumbles and Jared has to flee the death trap that the cities have become, he heads for the refuge of his grandfathers cabin in the pristine Colorado mountains. He anticipates a long hard winter spent in solitude. What he doesn't expect is that the cabin would be already occupied, or who he would find there.</p><p>A slave!fic set in the middle of a zombie apocolypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter In Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> There is briefly mentioned implied non-con in this story.  
> This is also posted on Livejournal under the same user name, with art, should you care to view it.

It takes Jared a full three weeks to realize this was the end of the world as he knew it. 

The national guard had come and gone, overcome within days of occupying the city, their forces too few in the face of the innumerable walking undead. He'd been sure another wave would come, hopefully this time with more tanks and guns and way, way more soldiers. Days spent waiting turned to weeks and still help had not arrived.

Gradually suspicion had coalesced into certainty. His survival from this point on was entirely in his own hands. It was up to him to survive in this terrifying new world, full of feral beasts that had once been human, all with one singular desire. 

To kill the living.

His brick duplex had seemed safe enough at first. Early broadcasts had advised sheltering in place and Jared had been happy to do just that, so sure that all this craziness would pass quickly. His parents in their modest house in the suburbs of Dallas had said they were doing the same, and he'd promised to come visit the minute it was safe.

The phones, both landline and cell are dead now, followed closely by all electrical power. Jared is done waiting for help that was never going to come. 

He isn't naive about his chances, knowing perfectly well the odds are against him no matter what he chooses to do. If he stays, chances are good his building will be overrun by a swarm sooner or later and he'd need to go scavenging for food soon anyway. He'd eaten the last of his stockpile of canned food two days ago and is down to the three granola bars he was saving for the trip. 

He's pretty sure it's a Monday when he puts a change of clothes, three water bottles, six pictures of family and friends, two lighters and a manual can opener in his former gym bag. There's room for more in the bag, a lot more, but the last thing he wants to do is to weigh himself down. It's hard to justify being sentimental when an extra pound or two could mean the difference between life or death.

One last look at the house he'd called home for the last three years and he's gone, closing the door behind him with the surety he'd never set eyes on it again.

Seventeen days, two stolen cars and one motorcycle later and Jared is standing at his parents front door attempting to work up the nerve to open it. Or knock, even. Knocking would be good, since everyone's nerves had to be on edge and he wouldn't want to get his head blown off by his dad's hunting rifle. He refuses to consider the possibility that there might not be anyone on the other side of that door. Instead he focuses on his mother's relieved smile that he can't wait to see, and how his dad will hug him and tell him off for making them worry.

No one answers his knock.

No one ever will.

He is spared the sight of his parent's bodies, but the blood smears on the floor and hand prints on the walls tell their own story well enough.

Jared doesn't go upstairs to see his childhood bedroom, the one his Mom had been threatening to turn into an exercise room ever since he'd graduated from college. He takes his parent's wedding picture off the wall as he leaves, along with his father's watch. It's sitting on the small table next to his favorite recliner and Jared can't help but picture his father taking it off that final time and putting it there for safekeeping. He wonders if he'd known what was about to happen as he unbuckled the band, if he'd kissed his beloved wife one last time before the end. 

Most of all he wonders if they would still be alive if he'd left sooner or traveled more quickly.

It's a thought that will disturb his dreams for a very long time to come.

He leaves quickly and without a thought as to where he is headed next.

It takes a close call with a hoard, over a hundred strong and more feral than most, to wake him up from his grief sufficiently to realize he needs a plan. He's been running and hiding from place to place, moving when it seems safe to do so, hunkering down in abandoned homes and stores when it wasn't. It doesn't take a genius to figure out sooner or later his luck will run out. 

Every instinct he has is telling him to flee the cities and towns and head out into the wilderness, far from the massive numbers of undead and – almost as bad – the living that was now preying on each other out of greed or desperation. He'd studied the walkers whenever possible, watched how they moved both in groups and individually. As a general rule, they tended to take the path of least resistance. Climbing uphill, through difficult terrain, wouldn't be impossible for them to accomplish but it seemed unlikely. At the very least, there should be far fewer to contend with.

His great- grandfathers cabin would be perfect refuge. It's set high in the mountains of Colorado, with no neighbors or even a paved road within miles. It had passed out of the family years ago but property laws, along with the rest of civilization, were clearly a thing of the past. With a little luck, he'd find it unoccupied and he could claim it for his own.

The jeep he manages to steal is ugly as sin, rusty and battle scarred, even so it's a thing of beauty in Jared's eyes. Without it and it's four wheel drive he'd never have made it this far. He stops just within sight of the cabin to get a good look at it before approaching. 

No signs of life are apparent. It's chilly at this altitude, at least twenty degrees cooler than the land below, but there's no smoke coming from either the brick chimney or the flue. There are no tracks in the light layer of snow that blanket the mountain, no human voices to be heard.

The door, as he'd hoped, isn't locked. Few people bother to lock up with bare bones cabins like this one, especially out here where vandals were few and far between and valuables are virtually non-existent. At first glance it seems he's right, that no one is in residence and Jared can safely take possession of the small home.

Then he sees the eyes watching him apprehensively from the corner of the room.

“Holy shit,” he swears, taking one step backwards and holding up his hands in supplication. “You mighta said something. Scared the shit out of me.”

The eyes blink at him but that is pretty much the only response he gets. Which is... a little off. By rights, he – and it was a he, the light was dim inside the cabin but not that dim – should be warning him off right about now. Or at least asking him what he's doing there.

Instead all he gets is... nothing. 

Maybe he's hurt.

“Hey. Are you okay? You aren't hurt or sick or anything, are you?” Jared takes another step back as a precaution, bringing him in contact with the closed door. He isn't exactly sure how the virus is spread, or even if it actually is a virus although that had been the prevailing theory floating around in the last days of radio and TV. To be on the safe side, up until now he'd stayed away from other survivors as much as possible.

If this guy is infected...

“No, sir. I'm not hurt. Or sick,” the man says in a worryingly raspy voice.

Jared must not look reassured because the other man speaks more urgently.

“I swear. I'm no danger to you. Please. Please don't do anything.”

Jared realizes about that time that he's pointing the gun he had hidden in his jacket pocket at him, purely out of reflex. The other man had clearly realized the significance of his gesture. 

“Sorry,” he says. He doesn't take his hand out of his pocket just yet, but he does make a show of standing down with his body language. “Is this your place?”

The man leans forward in his seat bringing him out of the shadows, probably to make sure Jared can see just how uninfected he is. He gets a good look at the cabin's occupant for the first time. 

He's struck by two things almost simultaneously. First, that this was one of the most beautiful men he'd ever seen, followed closely by the realization that the other man is a slave. Or rather, was a slave. 

“What's your name?” Jared asks, to which the slave replies simply, “Jensen.”

Jared nods and scans the cabin, looking for any other occupants. “And where is your owner?”

Jensen hesitates and Jared wonders if he's a runaway. Of course, nowadays that label doesn't really apply to anyone anymore. “I don't know,” the slave admits after a pause. “We came here when things got bad, to hide out. But he went out one day to look for food and hasn't come back.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Eight days. I think.”

This is not a good sign. If walkers have gotten him, which seems likely given the amount of time he's been missing, then this place isn't as safe as he'd hoped.

“How many have you seen? Since you've been up here, how many walkers?”

“None, sir. Not a one.”

Maybe his owner had simply gotten lost. It happened every year, hikers and hunters who underestimated the power of nature and had to be rescued from their own poor planning and bad fortune. 

Then again, he may have abandoned the slave here intentionally and struck out on his own. “If he comes back, do you think he'll mind? Me staying here for a while, I mean?”

Jensen hesitates long enough that Jared has his answer. Well, it isn't very likely his owner will be coming back anyway, not after all this time. 

“What about you, then? Do you mind? I've got provisions outside. Enough that I won't be a burden,” Jared adds when Jensen is slow to respond. He stands without answering, swaying slightly as he does so. “Sure you're okay?” Jared asks and Jensen nods once again. 

“Yes, sorry. Sorry. I'll help you unload.” Which was as good an invitation as he was going to get, apparently. It wouldn't occur to Jared until several weeks later that Jensen hadn't known how to answer his question, so he'd fallen back on sidestepping the issue, a tactic he used whenever he felt unsure of a situation.

They quickly empty the jeep of the supplies he'd been able to scavenge along the way, Jared making two trips for every one of Jensen's. He stows the vehicle out of sight behind the building – no need to advertise his presence – and comes back in to the welcome sight of Jensen preparing to cook a meal on a small propane stove, using the food he'd brought. 

He stops when he spies Jared standing there in the doorway.

“I hope it's okay,” he says quietly. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“Sounds great, actually. I'm starving. Although you need to open the windows when you use that stove, we don't want a buildup of carbon monoxide.” Jensen looks chagrined and does as Jared had suggested.

It amazes Jared how much better even a simple can of beans tastes when heated. It's been weeks since he'd last had a hot meal. 

“Aren't you eating?” he asks after belatedly noticing Jensen is doing nothing more than watching him eat, a distinctly ravenous look in his eye.

“With your permission,” Jensen says and the phrase sounds polished and rote. 

“Be a pretty sorry sonofabitch if I didn't share.” 

Jensen doesn't respond to that beyond a simple thank you but he does take a bowl from a cabinet and carefully fill it half way. 

Jared finishes his portion quickly and eyes the small amount remaining in the pot. He decides to wait and see if Jensen wants it before helping himself. It hadn't escaped his notice that he'd been given a much larger serving than Jensen had taken for himself.

“So, how much food did you have here already, Jensen? Hopefully between what I brought and you have, there will be enough to get us through the winter.”

Jensen stops eating and slowly puts his spoon back into the bowl. He pushes it away before answering softly, “None. There is no food here. It's all gone.”

Jared's eyes snap to Jensen's. “Nothing at all? What have you been living on?”

The look on Jensen's face is answer enough.

“Crap,” Jared says, and spoons the remaining beans into Jensen's bowl. “Eat,” he orders and shoves the bowl into Jensen's unresisting hands. He begins eating slowly, eyes never leaving Jared's face.

“Thank you,” he says and Jared realizes he'd expected to have to go hungry, right in the middle of all the food they'd just brought in.

“It'll be all right,” Jared says, even though he isn't entirely sure of that. “We can still make it. I haven’t hunted or trapped in a long time but my grandpa used to take me at least a couple of times year. We'll get by.” Although he really didn't want to waste any of his precious ammunition on hunting, not when it could mean life or death if a hoard came through. Two or three he could take out with the ax, no problem. Many more than that and he wouldn't stand a chance without the gun.

If he could manage it, trapping was the way to go, no question.

“And there's fish,” Jensen adds unexpectedly, the first real spark of life present in his voice since Jared arrived.

“Oh man, is there ever. Trout big as your arm. Nothing better.” He pauses, then asks, “Jensen? How long has it been since you've eaten?”

“Ten days,” he says matter of factly. He takes a bite before adding, “I think. I've kind of lost track of time lately. Been sleeping a lot.” He looks down at his bowl and bites his lip before saying, “I don't know how to fish or hunt or anything but I'm a fast learner. And I do know how to cook some.”

Ten days. No wonder his owner had gone looking for food. Should Jensen even be eating solid food at this point? He remembers reading that if you'd gone a long time without eating it could be dangerous to start with solids. Of course, the question was now moot since Jensen was just now scraping the bottom of his bowl. “You should probably eat some broth or something. Soup. Soup would be good.”

Jensen looks confused as he eats the last bite of his meal. “I'm sorry?” he says once he's swallowed, “Did you not want me to eat the beans?”

“Never mind,” Jared says as the last part of what Jensen had said earlier finally got through to him. “Wait, do you think I'm going to make you leave? If anything, you were here first. I should be the one leaving.”

Jensen shook his head. “Master doesn't own the cabin. We were heading somewhere else, a friend's house, I think, when he found this one and decided it would be good enough.”

“Well, I don't own it either. So I guess we're on equal footing.”

Jensen doesn't say anything else but stands and begins gathering up the empty dishes. Jared gets up as well and takes them from him. “You can barely stand up. Get your strength back before you try and do any chores, okay?”

Jensen sits back down slowly, once again looking confused. It was probably wrong that he found that look as adorable as he did.

Jared takes a good look around the cabin for the first time, studying it. Only two windows and one door means it's more defensible than most and the small size means it will be fairly easy to keep warm as winter progressed. Outside there's a forest full of potential fire wood as well as food in the form of wildlife, not to mention clean fresh water from one of the many streams. Compared to life in the cities at this point, this is pretty close to heaven. He saw no reason why he can't survive quite nicely here. 

He looks at Jensen, sitting quietly with his head bent forward slightly. No reason why they can't survive here, he corrects himself.

“You look tired,” he says. “Why don't you lie down and rest. I'll put this stuff away.”

Jensen seems to tense a bit but he nods nonetheless. “I can help, if you like.”

“I think I got this. Seriously. You look like you're about to fall over.”

There are two beds in the cabin, a twin and one larger. Jensen starts to take the smaller bed before hesitating, looking at Jared with a question in his eyes.

Jared has no clue what his problem is - maybe that Jensen thought he shouldn't rest while a free person was working, so he just tells him once again to go lie down. This time Jensen does as he's told, carefully lowering himself onto the twin bed with a sigh.

The food is far more than the three small cabinets can handle, so Jared arranges up the majority of what he'd brought in a corner using the cardboard boxes he'd used to loot them in the first place. Canned goods go on the bottom, as they are the least vulnerable to pests and the elements. Dried beans and rice are next, along with flour, sugar, powdered milk and grains. The few spices he'd brought – easy to find compared to other foods, but not strictly a necessity so he'd limited his choices – go into the cabinet, along with a few condiments. 

He eyes the collection of foodstuffs and hopes it really will last until spring. Once winter really set in they were going to be stuck here, and once this ran out there was no running to the store for more. Strike one for mountain living. 

He checks on Jensen and finds him to be mostly asleep. Small twitches give away the remnants of consciousness, or he'd have thought him all the way under. 

Jared goes outside in search of firewood, finding about half a rack in a lean to against the back wall of the cabin outside. The wood stove will do double duty – keeping them warm and giving them a place to cook. He wonders why Jensen isn't using it. Maybe he doesn't think it's worth the effort at this point in the season.

The room starts to warm up almost as soon as he lights the fire, giving it a much more homey feel. 

He throws together a pot of soup using what's on hand and puts it on top of the stove, hoping it will be done before Jensen wakes up. Feeding him up is top priority – if he got really sick, Jared didn't know what he'd do.

It feels kind of voyeuristic but he can't help poking around the inside of the cabin while Jensen sleeps. He doesn't find much that's useful, although the shelf of paperbacks would come in handy when boredom inevitably set in. No hidden cache of weapons or ammo showed itself. There were no handy closets full of food. 

Finally running out of gas he sits on the unoccupied bed and waits for Jensen to wake.

It doesn't occur to him until he sees Jensen watching him warily as he slowly comes back to life that waking up and realizing a stranger is watching you sleep would be highly disconcerting to most people.

Dinner is awkward, with Jared making several attempts to start conversations that end up going nowhere. Jensen seems to want to keep his distance, which is fine, but it was going to be a long uncomfortable winter if they can find nothing to talk about. 

That evening Jared barricades the windows and doors as best as he can with what is on hand, mentally listing what he'd need to make permanent shutters and a bar to help secure the door. At least the construction here is solid, the large stacked logs a far cry from the hollow core doors and thin drywall ubiquitous to most homes. A big enough hoard could still get in eventually but it would be much more difficult here. 

As they get ready for bed Jensen gives him the same wary look that Jared had noticed earlier, and he belatedly realizes what it means. 

He expects Jared to take advantage of the situation - to take advantage of him. Of course, Jensen doesn't know him at all, and it's stupid to feel hurt by the other man's supposition but it stings nonetheless. 

He'd always made it a point to treat the slaves he came across in daily life with dignity and respect, as much as possible. Just the thought of having sex with a non consenting partner turned his stomach.

“I'm not going to do anything to you,” he blurts out without preface, always one to prefer plain talk to dancing around a problem. “I'm hoping we can be friends. If you want. But that's all. ”

Jensen doesn't look like he really believes Jared but he supposes that's fair enough. Trust has to be earned with more than words, now so more than ever.

The next day Jared gets to work securing the cabin. The bookcase and three of the wall shelves are cannibalized for their wood and used to make barricades while Jensen helps. They talk while they work and Jared discovers the slave had been unsure about how to use the wood stove so he'd simply done without it until now. Jared shows him how to open the flue and stack the firewood and tinder, handing him the lighter so he can restart the fire that has died out in the night.

These were things Jensen needed to know how to do for himself. Just in case.

They polished off the soup from the night before and Jensen volunteers to make biscuits and gravy for supper, an offer Jared gladly accepts. He still looks too pale and is clearly weak but Jared could almost see the strength returning to his too thin body. A few more good feedings and he should be firmly out of danger.

Jensen seems a little more relaxed around Jared by the day's end, still wary but not as if he expects to be set upon at any moment. Jared starts to have real hope they will be friends, after all. 

There are no questioning looks as they go to bed that night.

The next few days follow a similar pattern, with Jared doing everything within his power to make their little home safe and secure not only from possible threats but the elements as well. They both gather fallen firewood from the woods, stacking it inside so that it will dry faster until they run out of room. Jared's ax comes in handy as something other than a weapon as larger logs are hacked into useable pieces. 

Winter in the mountains will be harsh and unforgiving and he is determined to be as prepared as possible. No rescue helicopters will come flying in should anything go awry, not any more. 

 

*****

 

Jensen has no idea what to make of Jared. 

And it was Jared. He'd insisted on Jensen calling him that, without even a Mister or Sir prefacing it. 

He didn't seem to want or expect much of anything from Jensen, not even sex. Make that especially not sex. Jared had been very clear on that right from the start. 

He couldn't deny that he was relieved. On an average day sex is an unpleasant chore to be gotten through, one he'd just as soon skip. The bad days are best forgotten, so he does, as much as possible. 

He can count the number of good experiences on one hand.

About the only other talents he had that could be considered even remotely useful in his current situation were very mediocre cooking skills and a willing ear to listen to Jared as he talked. The latter isn't a skill most people would value but, as he is finding out, Jared isn't your average person.

It takes Jensen a while to put his finger on what it is about Jared that makes him so different. A few days in it finally dawns on him – Jared talks to him like a person. He asked his opinion on things, takes his preferences into account. Even looks him in the eye when they talk. Just like he's a free person. He'd run into people like Jared every so often, liberal do-gooders who made a show of feeling sorry for him. At the end of the day it would make no difference because nothing changed. He still went home to the owner who had him whipped for minor transgressions, restricted his rations because he was getting 'too fat', and gave him to guests to use as they pleased.

He could be wrong about Jared. But for now, listening to him talk seemed a small price to pay for everything he got in return.

And man, does he talk. He talks about his idyllic childhood in Texas, idyllic if even half of what he described was true. He talks about going off to college and from there to his job as an architect. How he'd hoped to move up in the firm and become the next Jeanneret or Wright, people Jensen had never heard of but soon learned all about thanks to Jared. He talks about books he'd read and books he wished he'd read, favorite movies and music, which cities he liked the most and why.

As a conversationalist Jensen knows he falls short. He has no opinions to offer on books he hasn't read, restaurants he's never eaten at, movies he'd never seen. He does make an effort once he realizes Jared wants him to give something back, not just be a silent listener, but all too often even the things he considers good memories seem to depress or upset Jared.

For example, one day he'd made them pancakes for breakfast with burnt sugar syrup. Jared had been flatteringly complimentary of the meal – and Jensen had to admit it was one of his better efforts, when he'd stopped mid sentence.

“Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “Am I crazy, or did I not bring any syrup?”

“There was no syrup,” Jensen admitted. “So I made some.”

Jared had clearly never heard of such a thing and so Jensen had explained how to make it. Then he added, “Mom used to fix it for us as a special treat after we'd been out of food for a while. When she could afford it. Hers was really good, lots better than this.”

Jared got really quiet for a while before asking, “Did you do without food a lot as a kid?”

Jensen shrugged. “Not really. But every so often Mama's check would be short, or the light bill would be too high, something like that.”

Jared poked at his pancake with his fork. “What about your dad? Did he work too? Help out?”

Jensen looked away. “Dad disappeared when us kids were still little. Just went to work one day and never came home. Mama tried and tried to find out what happened to him but she never did. The cops thought he ran off but they didn't know him, not like we did. He never would have left us, not in a million years.”

“I'm sure you're right. Tell me about your brothers and sisters. If, you know, you want to.”

Jensen didn't want. The pain of losing his family had grown more distant over the years but had never completely faded away. This pandemic, or whatever it was, had reawakened that old hurt and made it raw all over again. He'd lived all these years picturing them happy and healthy; living good, peaceful lives. He couldn't bear to think of them out there among the horror that was the world today. He couldn't stand to imagine them hurt or worse.

“There were six of us, including me,” he said by way of compromise “Four boys, two girls. I was the oldest. Would you like another plate? I've got more batter ready to go.”

Jared allowed himself to be diverted off course by the prospect of food and the conversation thankfully shifts to other topics.

 

Lately Jared has been watching him more. Furtive looks that he probably thinks Jensen hasn't noticed, but he's pretty good at paying attention to his surroundings. He doesn't know what to actually make of those looks, however. It couldn't be lust. If Jared has changed his mind and decided he wants him after all there is nothing to stop him from taking what he wanted.

The only reason he can come up with for all the odd looks is that Jared is working up to kicking him out at some point in the not too distant future and he's feeling some guilt over it. He's known all along that Jared is bright enough to realize he stands a much better chance of making it through the winter without Jensen hanging around his neck like an albatross. 

Jensen wouldn't survive a week out there on his own. 

He isn't even sure where they are, exactly, or where the nearest house was. Even if he did manage to make it through the woods to another cabin and it was unoccupied, he still faced a winter with little to no food and no way to provide any. Without a weapon and far more woodcraft knowledge than he currently possessed, there was no way he'd make it through the winter.

No question, his best and maybe only chance at survival lay in staying right where he was.

He had to convince Jared that it is in his best interests to let him stay. No matter how he racked his brains he couldn't think of anything he has to offer that Jared can't provide for himself besides sex and conversation. The latter he's already providing to the best of his ability. That leaves sex as the only thing that might tip the scales in his direction.

Now he just needs to convince Jared. The irony of having to convince a free person to use him sexually is not lost on Jensen.

Even if Jared doesn't find him attractive or whatever the problem is it isn't like there's a plethora of choice anymore. After all, there is no telling when or if they'd even see another person. 

Just about everyone got tired of their own right hand sooner or later. Maybe if he offered himself on that basis, in an entirely logical fashion, Jared would change his mind. 

And that should buy him some time if nothing else.

 

*****

 

Jared is floored by Jensen's proposal, to say the least. He'd had no clue the other man was thinking about him that way.

“You want to what? You want us to what?”

Jensen is starting to look a little frightened so Jared carefully lowers his tone, repeating in more modulated tones, “You want us to start having sex? Why?”

Jensen clears his throat and answers, “Because it makes sense, when you think about it. You're going to be stuck here for who knows how long and there's just me so you might as well make the best of it. I mean, if you want to.” His voice, relatively confident at first has begun to waver towards the end and Jared feels like the world's biggest heel. 

Jensen had really put himself out there and here Jared is acting like an insensitive jerk. It took a lot of courage for most people to just ask for something like that out of the blue. It must have been even harder for gentle, quiet Jensen to do so.

Although Jared has to admit, he thought he'd been more subtle in his interest than that. Obviously Jensen had picked up on it, despite his efforts at subterfuge. Even better, his interest was returned. He really hopes he hasn't offended Jensen with his surprise.

Jensen is looking more and more anxious by the minute and Jared realizes he still hasn't given him an answer.

“Okay,” he says simply, because what else could he say, really? He'd have to be an idiot to turn down Jensen.

“Okay?” Jensen repeats and the cautious surprise in his voice hurts to hear.

“Sure. I mean, why not?” he adds, wincing a little as his own words registered. Suave, he was not.

Jensen nods seriously before standing up and – holy crap – starting to strip. With no preliminary whatsoever, just methodically taking off his clothes in front of him like he's done it a thousand times before. 

“Wait,” Jared says quickly, because his brain is still processing this new development even though his body was fully on board, “I thought maybe we could make it special. Take it slow? A little bit?”

Jensen looks confused but nods agreeably and stops unbuttoning his shirt. “If that's what you want,” he says slowly. “Although I'm not sure what...”

“Dinner,” Jared says, because that's all he can come up with off the cuff. “A nice dinner and then we'll see what happens. Deal?”

Jensen nodded again and repeated, “If that's what you want.”

 

*****

 

Jared is uncharacteristically quiet during dinner and Jensen starts to worry that he's changed his mind. That is, until he catches him watching him with heat in his eyes over his plate of fried rice. 

At last. Jensen knows how to work with this.

He patiently waits for Jared to make the first move, right through the canned peaches for desert and the awkward, jittery small talk afterwards as they sit together on the worn couch. Finally he gives up on waiting and puts his hand on Jared's leg, massaging it meaningfully. 

Jared stops talking like a switch has been thrown.

What happens next takes Jensen totally by surprise. 

Jared kisses him. Not a hungry kiss or a lustful one either, no, it was a soft, sweet kiss. The kind of kiss Jensen imagined you would give your lover. The kind of kiss he'd never personally experienced. Until now.

Things progress rapidly from there. He isn't exactly clear on who does what, but somehow they are both naked and on Jared's bed shortly afterwards.

“Tell me what you want,” Jared whispers in his ear as they lay together side by side, hands and bodies touching. “Tell me what you like.”

Mostly Jensen likes it when sex doesn't hurt but he's sure Jared won't want to hear that so he answers instead, “Everything. Anything.” He knows he's spoken rightly when Jared's eyes get impossibly darker and he flips Jensen over so he's underneath him. Jensen fights off a momentary wave of panic at being pinned like this, at Jared's bigger body covering his so completely. 

In order to regain some feeling of control, he takes Jared's hand and guides it down to his opening, slick and as loose as he could manage.

“I got myself ready for you,” he says, raising his hips invitingly. 

There are no more words exchanged after that, at least, none that he would later remember.

Jared falls asleep soon after they are done but Jensen is not so fortunate. He curls up with his back to Jared's front, one of his strong arms holding him in place even in sleep. 

That had been... unexpectedly intense. And not in a bad way. Jared had been a considerate lover, easy to please as well. 

He could do this, no problem. He only hoped Jared's interest wouldn't wane quickly, the way it did sometimes with some men, and his place here could be secure that much longer. 

Not a whole lot changes. Jared is more relaxed than before, which is understandable. Jensen tries to relax as well, mostly because he knows Jared likes him better when he isn't jumpy and nervous, but it's hard when you feel like you're standing on a gangplank, waiting for the order to jump.

Jared turns out to be not only that rare combination of a tender and forceful lover but also a spontaneous one as well. Jensen never knows just when or where the mood will strike him, although he's safe enough outside. It had gotten cold enough lately to dampen anyone's ardor, even Jared's.

Then came the day Jensen said no to Jared for the first time. He was cooking dinner – a gravy that needed constant tending to prevent scorching, when Jared had blanketed him from behind, hands running up his body in a suggestive manner. 

He tries pushing Jared's hands away but when that doesn't work, snaps without thinking, “Not now!”

Jensen goes perfectly still as he realizes what he's done. He's never defied Jared in any way before, always careful to present the image of quiet obedience. 

Jared doesn't throw him out, doesn't hit him or even yell at him. Instead he laughs - laughs low and soft, his breath ticking Jensen's ear. “Fine, Mr. Grouchy. I think I can keep it in my pants a little while longer.”

And then he just leaves. Walks over to the shabby couch and sprawls over it in that easy way he has, as though he didn't have a care in the world.

Jensen takes a deep breath, only then realizing he's been holding it all this time.

Jared hadn't hurt him. Maybe he never would. Maybe his fears about being put out are unfounded.

Maybe he is safe after all.

 

*****

 

Something has changed between them but Jared can't quite put his finger on what or why. 

As for Jensen, he is definitely more easy going these days, the jumpiness he tries to hide much less apparent. He is also much more open in bed. Jared had thought him shy about sex – responsive enough and clearly enjoying the things they did, but there had been a definite reserve that has all but vanished over the past few days.

Sometimes he even initiates sex now, seeking Jared out in the dead of night with something approaching innocence. He can't deny he finds it incredibly endearing. 

They are in the dead of winter now, snow falls coming thick and with depressing regularity. Getting around outdoors is difficult but necessary as the supplies he'd brought are dwindling far too rapidly for their future well being. When the trapping was good they ate well. Unfortunately the colder it got, the less the animals ventured out, just like they did. There's a good chance spring will find them both several pounds lighter.

Fishing provides some meals, although ice fishing is now the only option and not something he has any experience with whatsoever. He is learning by trial and error but more days than not he comes back to the cabin with nothing to show for his efforts but a tired body and frustrated spirit. 

He is out scouting for new spots to lay snares one day when he happens across it. After careful thought and deliberation he goes back to the cabin to get Jensen.

Jensen looks apprehensive when he asks him to follow him into the woods but does so without question. He rarely ventures outdoors these days as his winter coat isn't nearly as substantial as Jared's. He also lacks appropriate footwear - sneakers provide little protection against the harsh weather conditions.

It takes them over an hour of hiking through the heavy snow to reach the small cliff Jared had been at earlier that day.

“What is it?” Jensen asks at last, worry clear in his tone. “It's not one of them, is it?”

“No,” Jared says, “I found something else. Someone else. I thought you might want to see.” He points over the edge of the cliff down into the shallow ravine below. Jensen leans over the edge and Jared grabs his jacket as one foot slips out from underneath him. “Careful now,” he says and Jensen leans out again, much more cautiously this time.

It's a body. The body of a man from the general shape, but any other details are obscured by the blanket of snow that has settled over him.

“I thought it might be, you know. Him.”

Jensen doesn't need to ask who Jared means. His owner, never discussed but hanging between them like a ghost all this time, although Jensen hadn't fully realized that until just now. After another minute or two of looking he spots the shoe, sitting atop a nearby rock. 

He points it out to Jared. “That's his shoe. That's him,” he says, voice getting louder as he speaks.

“I figured it must be,” Jared says, but Jensen isn't really paying attention anymore. He appears lost in thought as Jared leads him back to the cabin, both of them chilled to the bone.

Jensen is unusually quiet that evening as they lay together in bed. Lately it had gotten too cold and the usable firewood too scarce for them to stay up much past sundown, so they spent a good deal of time just huddling under the blankets, relishing the shared body heat. 

It is during these times, when the wind whistles through the bare trees outside and their little nest is cozy and warm that Jensen seems to be most open. Jared treasures these moments like the rare and precious gems they are.

One good thing to come out of all this was that he understood – really and truly understood, just how precious your time on earth was. How easily it could be ripped away from you. How easily you could lose those you loved.

Jensen could have been the one at the bottom of that ravine. If his owner had stayed in and sent Jensen out that day, it very well could be him here in this cabin and he never would have met Jensen, never would have grown to care about him the way he did.

Never would have known love.

“I didn't realize it, not really I mean, until I saw his body,” Jensen says into the quiet dark, “but I think a part of me expected him to come back some day. To take me away.”

Jared is silent for a long moment as he searches for the right words to say. His first instinct, to blurt out what he'd just realized, that he loved Jensen, is quickly squashed. He's pretty sure Jensen isn't ready to hear that. Not right now. Maybe not for awhile yet.

“I wouldn't have let him,” he finally says in response. He pauses before adding, “You know you don't have to go with anyone you don't want to, right? Do anything you don't want to do? Not anymore.” When Jensen says nothing he adds, “Everything that we used to know is gone, Jensen. All the laws, the rules. None of that matters anymore. It's like the world has gotten a fresh new beginning. A do over. In an unbelievably horrible way, but still. It's something.”

He stops as he realizes something else he hadn't known until just that moment. He'd avoided having this talk with Jensen all this time for a reason. A part of him had been sure that if Jensen really and truly understood that he was a free man now, he would leave here. 

He would leave him.

At first Jared just hadn't wanted to be alone. He couldn't imagine how the past few months would have gone if he'd been forced to spend them alone, brooding over all the horror and devastation he'd witnessed. Jensen's company had made all the difference.

Now he just wants Jensen to stay. To stay there with him in their little cabin that has come to mean safety and home in this strange new world. 

Most of all, he wants Jensen to want that too.

“I'm not sure I can believe that,” Jensen finally says, breath fogging in the night air. “I know things got pretty bad, but I can't believe they won't win. With everything they have; the tanks and the guns and the bombs, eventually things will go back to how they used to be. Not all the way, maybe. But...”

“No, Jensen. There's no way.” He thinks of how few people – live people, not the animated husks that once were human – he'd seen while making his way here. How many fewer there have to be by now, with most of the power plants failing, water treatment plants following behind, and winter fully settled in. This on top of the deadly predators roaming the earth. Sometimes, standing outside on a clear day with no signs of human life anywhere within earshot – no planes, no cars, no voices in the distance – it was easy to believe they were the last two people on earth. He knows it isn't so, of course, that there has to be others both resourceful and lucky enough to have survived they way they had, but the feeling persists. 

“There's no way,” he repeats firmly. “Things will get rebuilt, someday, eventually, but things will never be the way they were. The government is gone. The army is gone. This,” he touches Jensen's neck, where his now invisible slave tattoo stood out starkly against his skin in daylight, “doesn't mean anything to anyone anymore.”

Jensen doesn't say anything else and Jared isn't sure he believes him. When Jensen's hands begin making their way under his shirt he stops caring, at least for the moment.

 

*****

 

Christmas passes by unnoticed. It doesn't meant much to Jensen anymore anyway but Jared got somewhat withdrawn for a while once they realized what had happened. Jensen knows he's no doubt remembering years past with joyous family gatherings and presents and made by Mom meals. For him, those memories are a distant dream by now and Christmas just another day.

By now Jensen's earlier concerns about Jared, while not completely dissipating, have been pushed far to the back of his mind, only coming out to play occasional when he's feeling especially stressed or tired. It seems less and less likely that he would actually make him leave, sending him to an almost certain death. At least, not now while he's so very enamored of Jensen's body. Of course, once the attraction faded...

For now, though, he tries not to worry about it.

He thinks about what Jared had said, about the world being different now. About him being free. Jared seemed to really believe it but Jensen just can't. 

Most of his life has been controlled by pieces of paper and seemingly immutable laws. It's to much to believe that all that really is a thing of the past.

He'd long ago accepted that this was his life now, that he'd always be someone's property, never again a free man. That he'd never see his family, or have a family of his own. To change such a fundamental belief about yourself is no small thing.

Then came the day that Jared didn't come home.

Dinner is simmering on the wood stove as the sun goes down and Jensen finds himself with his face virtually pressed against the window watching for him. Jared never stays out after dark. It's far too dangerous now and besides, their one working flashlight was being saved for emergencies. He has it with him, of course, so Jensen is sure that he'd just lost track of time and he'd see the bright white beam heading towards the cabin any minute now.

Any minute now.

Any minute.

Two hours after sunset he knows something is seriously wrong. There's no way Jared would be out this late unless he's in trouble. With nervous fingers, he checks the fuel level on the oil lamp and heads out to look for him. 

He almost misses him.

A small moan, almost too low to hear, draws him to the small clump of trees not far from one of the trails Jared had made in the snow over the past few days. He races over, heart in his throat, to find Jared trapped under a large tree branch, big enough to have knocked him out cold, leaving him helpless in the snow. With shaking hands he checks the wound oozing blood on Jared's forehead. There isn't that much of it, but as cold as it was, there probably wouldn't be. Hopefully this is the worst of it.

He pulls the branch off him with some difficulty and Jensen begins the slow, arduous task of dragging him back to their cabin. Dragging dead weight is hard. Dragging dead weight through snow - in the dark, no less - is even harder. The lamp had to be left behind – there is no way to hold onto it and get Jared to safety at the same time. The night feels oppressively heavy around him.

Time slows to a crawl.

By the time he finally gets them back to the cabin – a feat he was beginning to think beyond him, Jared is beginning to come around.

“Jensen?” he slurs, as Jensen drags him the final few feet over the threshold and fully inside the warmth of their home. He quickly shuts the door and collapses on the floor next to Jared's chilled body, unable to even check on him for the moment.

“Hey,” he says, when he is finally able to talk again. “Can you feel,” he stops and takes a deep breath before continuing, “your fingers and toes.”

Jared looks utterly confused. “Fingersss?” 

“Yeah. C'mon, now, stay awake,” he says, as Jared's eyes begin sliding shut once more. “I'm pretty sure you need to stay awake.” Jared's eyes are closed now and Jensen barks out a harsh, “Jared!”

That does the trick. Jared's eyes fly open and he's watching Jensen with absolutely no comprehension of what is happening in his face.

“You got hurt. Outside. A tree, I mean a branch fell on you. Knocked you out. You were out there for a while in the cold. I'm going to take a look at you now, okay? See if everything's where it should be.”

He's pretty sure Jared still isn't tracking everything as he doesn't answer but he cooperates as Jensen examines him as best he can. Never had he wished more for some medical training, or at least a first aid course.

“There's no swelling,” he says, mostly to himself as he checks the wound on Jared's head once more. “Is that good? I think that's good.” If he's bleeding inside his skull there would be no way for him to know. Jensen never missed modern conveniences more than he did at that moment.

Gloves and shoes are hastily pulled off for the next order of business. The skin concealed under them, mostly on the tips of his fingers and toes, is a worrying shade of pale gray. “Shit,” he mutters, then sets about getting Jared warmed up. Getting his wet outer clothes off and him into bed proves to be difficult but not impossible, as Jared is able to help some. Jensen stokes the fire before joining him.

“I've got you some nice, dry socks,” he says as he tugs them on Jared's icy cold feet in one efficient movement. Jared smiles as he does so, his eyes crinkling at the corners the way they always did when he was happy.

But then, Jared is nearly always in a good mood. Jared is a happy, good decent person who tried so hard to make others around him happy as well. He'd never done one thing; not a single, solitary thing that was selfish or mean spirited or just plain wrong. 

Jensen is a fool.

He'd been judging Jared based on past experiences with other people, people who weren't a tenth as good as Jared, and not on what Jared himself did. 

None of that matters right now, of course. What matters is that Jared makes it through the next few days without brain damage or worse and without losing any fingers or toes\

He has no idea where he could possibly go for help, and even if he did, there's no way they'd be leaving this mountain before the spring thaw. Whatever would happen, would happen. All he could do was watch and wait.

Jensen keeps Jared awake as long as possible but eventually he has to let him sleep. Actually, he isn't really sure if he's sleeping or unconscious, but he hopes he's healing as he rests in either case. The head wound wasn't very large so he washes it out with some peroxide, sticks a band aid on it and lets it be. His extremities start returning to nice, healthy pink color, which gives him one less thing to worry about. 

That is, until Jared starts vomiting in the night. Luckily Jensen is still awake when it starts, so he is able to get a bucket under him in time to catch most of it. He's pretty sure this is not a good sign. To make things worse, Jared is still confused and tries to get up and wander off more than once. Jensen is forced to pin him to the bed for his own safekeeping.

“Jared. Hey you, you need to stay in bed, okay? You got a bump on the head and you need to rest up before you go running around the place. Okay?”

Jared stops struggling to get up but Jensen still isn't really sure he's understanding him. 

“Please. Not so. Loud,” Jared says finally, and Jensen could have wept at the hearing the words. After extracting a promise to be good, he gets off Jared and heaves a sigh of relief, relief that lasts right up until the next round of vomiting starts up.

Luckily that part of his affliction doesn't last much longer.

Jensen soon learns that Jared is now extraordinarily sensitive to both sound and light. The light isn't really an issue as things are usually dim inside the cabin anyway, even at midday. The two small windows let in very little light but even so, he shutters them with the barricades Jared had made his very first day here. 

Likewise the noise level is easy to keep down. So long as Jensen doesn't talk loudly or bump into anything, they are golden.

The second day following his accident, Jared starts talking more, sounding almost like his old self. He has no memory of the event, doesn't even remember going out that morning which is troubling, but otherwise his memory seems intact. His attention wanders sometimes and he seems unsure of himself from time to time but Jensen is just grateful to have him all the way awake and talking. 

On the third day he insists on getting out of bed so Jensen lets him, hovering with each shaky step he takes towards the couch. Jensen insists on piling every single blanket from the bed over him and Jared laughs at him as he does.

“You know I'm warm now, right? The crises is over?”

Jensen knows perfectly well his mother henning is excessive and unnecessary and doesn't give a damn.

“Since you're well enough to make fun of me, I guess that means you're well enough to keep some actual food down, right?”

Jared considers the question before nodding, wincing a bit as he moves his head too fast for comfort. “Nothing heavy though. Maybe soup? Can we do soup?”

“Can I do soup?” Jensen deadpans. “I can do anything from beans and rice to rice and beans.” 

Jared grins and rests his head on the back of the couch before closing his eyes. “Beans and rice it is.”

He only downs half a bowl but he keeps it down without incident so Jensen is happy. He goes back to bed soon after eating and to sleep soon after that. Jensen kisses his forehead softly, not wanting to wake him from his much needed rest.

“I'm really, really glad you're going to be okay,” he whispers out loud. Jared never stirs.

He improves quickly but still has the occasional episode of mild confusion. And so Jensen felt he had no choice but to put his foot down when he tried to go fishing only six days into his recovery. 

“We need the food,” Jared insists, while Jensen shakes his head emphatically

“No, we don't. A few more days isn't going to matter. But if anyone's going, it's going to be me.”

That shuts Jared up fast.

“And when you do get better and are up to going out again, I'm going with you,” Jensen adds with a stubborn lift of his chin. Jared opens his mouth to protest but then closes it without saying a word.

“Fine,” he says with a huff, “Not like I wouldn't like the company. After it warms up some, though, I'm not having you catch a cold in that jacket you call a coat for no good reason.”

And there went the last of Jensen's misconceptions. Because he'd assumed Jared hadn't taken him along because he just didn't want to be bothered with teaching Jensen woodcraft, when it was obvious now he was waiting for Jensen to show some interest Or maybe just for him to get some warmer gear.

“It's time I started doing more, Jared. I've gotta tell ya, sometimes I feel like I'm not pulling my weight.” Jensen doesn't blink as he throws out the massive understatement.

Jared's face scrunches up and for a minute Jensen thinks he's having another one of his episodes but then he says, “You're kidding, right?” When Jensen silently shakes his head no Jared continues, “You do a lot, a whole lot. I mean, you take the really basic stuff we've got and make it taste good. Really good. If it were up to me I'd be eating flour and water every night.”

Jensen hides a smile. “You know that's glue, right?”

“See!” Jared points at him like he's just proved his point. “But you know, that's not even the main thing. The main thing is I'd be batshit crazy by now if I was stuck up here all by my lonesome. You've made this,” and he waves a hand to indicate the world at large, “liveable.” Jared pauses and rubs the back of his neck worriedly “That... didn't come out quite right. But you get the idea. And besides all that, you literally saved my life. Or did you knocked upside the head too? Forget that already?”

Well. When you put it like that, maybe he was important.

 

*****

 

Spring takes what feels like for ever to come, but as soon as the ice on the lakes begins to thaw, they start going out as a pair almost every day. When the dirt road down the mountain is more mud than snow they start talking about making a supply run into the nearest town.

Things have been running dangerously low on that front for a while now. Meals are mostly protein, fresh caught and tasty but the human body needs more to function in the long run.

“How big is it? The town, I mean,” Jensen adds with an eye roll as Jared gives him a dirty grin. 

“Tiny. The town, I mean,” he deadpans and smiles at Jensen's laugh. “But there's a decent sized town another fifteen, twenty miles past it if it turns out to be a bust.”

They don't talk about the dangers they will likely face. 

They both spend the day before leaving getting ready to go. Jared is surprised to learn Jensen is actually an accomplished mechanic. 

“Although I drove more than anything, for Master Alan at least.”

Jared passes him a wrench and watches as he reconnect the battery cables to the posts. Well before winter had set in, Jared had taken the battery out and stored it inside where it was warm, knowing the cold would surely kill it dead. Now Jensen is the one putting it back in, with Jared playing helper. 

“In fact, that's probably why he picked me to come with him.”

Jared glances over at him, carefully concealing his concern. Jensen almost never talked about his time as a slave, and even less about his owner. There is a part of Jared that's dying to know, simply because he wants to know everything about Jensen, both good and bad. At the same time a small cautious voice whispers in his ear that maybe some things are better left in the past where they belonged. 

“Because you could drive?” Jared prompts.

Jensen nods as he tightens a loose bolt. “Partly. Most slaves can't, you know. Although I think it was more about being able to fix the SUV if it broke down, more than anything.”

All this time it had never occurred to Jared to wonder where their vehicle was. “So where...”

“Long ways back, that a way,” Jensen says, anticipating Jared's question and waving a hand in a generally eastern direction. “Maybe twenty miles. It was a hell of hike to get here, I can tell you. Almost didn't make it.”

Jared can well believe that. A twenty mile hike through thick woods is the equivalent of a hundred or more in open country. And much more dangerous, to boot.

“You know, I don't think you've ever said his name before. Out loud, I mean.”

Jensen pauses and wipes a hand over his forehead. “Who, Master Alan? Guess I can drop the Master part now though, right? To tell the truth, I don't think about him all that much.”

“That's good, I guess,” Jared says but Jensen must have heard doubt in his voice because he looks at him, lips quirked.

“Really. I don't, not anymore. That's over now. And I didn't think about him any more than I had to when I was living under his roof. Although I do wonder what happened to rest of them. There were nine of us, altogether Nine people to keep one guy happy and in a clean home and fed.”

“And to drive him around,” Jared adds, because it feels like Jensen was leaving himself out of the equation.

“And drive him around.” Jensen echoes and then adds more seriously, “I wonder if any of them made it. Sometimes I think about it. I think, that could have been me, left behind with mobs of those things everywhere. I knew, we all knew, that it was only a matter of time before some made it in.” He pauses again and stands up straight. Jensen watches his eyes go soft and misty as he looks around the pristine, unspoiled wilderness that surrounded them. “I hope they ran. And made it to somewhere like this. Safe. Maybe even happy. My family, too. I hope they all made it.”

Jared doesn't know what to say so he's quiet for a long time after that. They both know the odds against them surviving are astronomical He's also sure it would be suicide to try and find them, at least, the way things are now. He hopes one day they can find out for sure. 

Jensen's quiet as well, for an uncomfortably long time, long enough for him to check all the belts and hoses for potential problems, his face closed and set as he worked. Eventually, though, talk resumes and the subject is considerably lighter, ending their day on a positive note. 

The small town of Roanoke is deserted as they drive in on the main street, no signs of life to be seen or heard anywhere. No unlife, either, for that matter. Jensen is at the wheel and he cautiously circles the block before heading towards the tiny grocery store. A small sign in the window informs local residents that “accounts must be paid up monthly to keep them active”. A much larger one says, “Go Away! No Food!” in large angry letters.

“Well, this doesn't look promising,” Jared says, but they park and cautiously approach the door anyway. He has his gun, unused after all this time, tucked away in his pocket. As they near the doorway he takes it out, keeping it down and low to his side so it won't be too obvious. Jensen carries their only other weapon of note, the ax.

The sign had lied.

There is food, not a lot, but some. Jensen is the one who finds it, hidden away behind stacked boxes of toilet paper. A mishmash of odds and ends, it looks like heaven to the two hungry men. Jensen loads the boxes up while Jared stands guard, keeping a wary eye on surrounding buildings. 

A quick raid of the small kitchen and office turns up a nice set of butcher knives and not much else that's useful. After some discussion they decide to stop at one of the larger houses in town to try their luck there.

White eyelet curtains hang undisturbed in the windows of the picturesque yellow clapboard house, while a bird pecks industriously at a worm in the yard. If it weren't for the dead house plants on the front porch and the faint aroma of neglect that hung in the air, Jared could almost believe the owners had simply stepped out for the day.

“I'm going in first,” Jensen insists. “You cover me.”

If you could overlook the thin layer of dust, the living room is clean and neat, the dining room the same. 

The kitchen is another story. It's clearly been ransacked at some point, the cabinet doors open wide to reveal nothing edible. 

“Looks like someone got here before us.” Jensen says despondently before brightening “But maybe...”.

Jared yells a warning as he opens the door set to the right of the stove, but it's too late. Two walkers, who had been locked inside the pantry come swarming out. Jensen gets over the surprise quickly, getting one in the torso and the other in the head with his ax.

“Shit!” he yells when the ax won't pull free and the thing on the floor is still writhing around, intent on getting it's prey. Jared shoots it in the back of it's head, feeling his heart beating like a drum at Jensen's close call. The other one is finished off with a single shot.

“Shit,” Jensen repeats and Jared agrees with that sentiment wholeheartedly.

“You okay?” he asks and Jensen nods, still staring at the walkers in shocked horror.

They leave the bodies where they lay, not wanting to risk possible infection.

“Feels wrong, though,” Jensen says, once he's regained his composure. “Not giving them a decent burial. They were people once. Everyone deserves a dignified end.”

“Yeah. It sucks,” Jared agrees but inwardly he's way more concerned over Jensen than two women who, in actuality, have been dead for months now.

“Did you know slaves aren't buried? They burn us. Throw the ashes away.”

“So it's like you never existed,” Jared murmured.

“Like even when you're dead, you don't deserve any dignity.”

Jared pulls him close and they stand that way for a long time, wordlessly reassuring each other through the body contact.

They hit three more houses after that without much luck. When Jensen spots a group of walkers off in the distance wandering aimlessly in what looks to be a small park, they decide it's time to go home.

A small farm house, a few miles out of town, tempts them into making one last stop. This one turns out to be the motherload. A pantry full of food, more than they could take with them as well as a shed with badly needed gardening tools.

“Once we find some seeds, we'll be all set,” Jensen says, glowing in triumph. He's holding up a hoe and a rake like they’re made of precious metal, even though Jared is fairly sure he's never actually set foot in a garden in his life. 

Jared's just as stoked. Canned food has a fairly long but not indefinite shelf life, the sooner they started producing their own food the better.

From then on, they make trips off the mountain every few weeks, scouting for supplies. Eventually they start running into the occasional survivor. That is, they knew a live human was present by the warning shots fired over their heads as they approached an occupied house.

“Is it wrong I'm happy to be shot at?” Jared says after their first such encounter and Jensen laughs shakily. 

“I know how you feel. At least now we know, really for sure know, that there are other people out there.”

It occurs to Jensen after their second trip out that they should keep a record of where they've been. He sketches out a series of maps in an old school notebook he'd found, working mostly from memory. As the months go by more and more houses are added to it, with a big red X to mark the occupied ones. For now, they stayed away from those. 

“We should probably try to make contact with someone. One day,” Jensen says, but he doesn't sound all that enthused about it.

“Maybe,” Jared says, because he's in no more of a hurry than Jensen. 

Digging up the garden is backbreaking work in the hard, rocky soil. With the small planting window they had to work with, they clearly needed to speed things up if they hoped to have any kind of harvest this year. Jared makes a unilateral decision the next morning to go scouting for a gas powered tiller. It takes two trips before they are successful in their quest but it's more than worth the effort, as they had the entire plot ready for planting only two days after bringing it home. 

It takes two further days just to pick all the stones out of the soil.

“I never knew this gardening stuff was so much work,” Jensen sighs that night as they lay together in bed. 

“Too tired for this?” Jared asks, running his hand down Jensen's front to lightly stroke his cock inside his shorts. 

Jensen wiggles at the contact and smiles tiredly. “I might be persuaded. You're going to have to work for it, though.”

Jared was up to that challenge.

It's a busy, productive summer with the garden to tend and the resulting produce to can for later use. Jensen is ridiculously excited when the seeds they'd planted actually sprouted, even more so when the first tiny vegetables appeared.

“We did this, Jared. We did it!”

And they had. Against all odds, they'd not only survived a world out to destroy them but had thrived in it. 

Jensen is a different person now, the reserve that had been his hallmark once upon a time faded away to a shadow of it's former self. Even his wary stance is a thing of the past. There are still ghosts in his eyes, ghosts that are more powerful some days than others, but every day that goes by they seem to have less and less hold over him.

Most days Jared doesn't care if they ever see another person again. A part of him is terrified it would spoil everything, ruin the little world they had carved out for themselves. 

He doesn't know what the future will bring, exactly, but he does know this - as long as they had each other, they had it all.

 

Epilogue

The men show up without warning some three years later, hands raised in the air to prove their good intentions and more importantly, their lack of weapons.

“We come in peace,” the younger one says while the other one elbows him roughly.

“I've told you to quit saying that, moron. You're going to get us shot one day.”

Jared studies them warily from just inside the doorway. He can feel Jensen's anxiety radiating off him without looking behind him.

“Seriously. We're just letting people know we've got a settlement over in Coffeeville. There's food and empty houses to pick from and the whole place is barricaded Everyone is welcome, so long as they contribute.”

“We're doing okay here,” Jared says and it's true. Not a single walker has ever made it up this far, even though there still seemed to be plenty in the area.

“Okay. That's good, I mean. We're not forcing anyone, just letting them know. Oh, and we have a doctor now. If you ever need one.” The man's voice changes as he spots Jensen, hidden partially behind Jared in the doorway. “But you should know we don't allow that,” he says flatly, pointing at Jensen.

For a minute Jared doesn't understand what he's referring to, then he realizes the man is pointing at Jensen's neck. Specifically, at the tattoo on his neck. He bristles in Jensen's defense.

Any place that didn't want Jensen, he wanted no part of.

“We don't do that anymore, so if you do decide to join us, he'll be one of us too. Same as you.” 

Jared's breath catches in his throat. “No slaves? No slavery at all?”

The man smiles at the hope in Jared's voice, apparently pleased at his reaction. “Nope. Not here anyway.”

“What about other places?” Jensen asks, speaking up for the first time. “Do they still have it in other parts of the country?”

The man shrugs. “Can't say. We've only gone out a couple hundred miles or so.”

They talk a few minutes more, long enough to establish the newcomers don't know much more than they do about the overall state of the outside world. Jensen eventually invites them to stop by if they were to come by this way again and the older man, whose name is Allan in an awkward coincidence, agrees to do just that.

They talk about it later that night, when they are once again alone. Neither one really wants to leave, not permanently, so they don't. One day they'd visit, maybe trade for some things that were getting harder and harder to scavenge 

That's in the future though, and this is now. Right now they had all they needed, together.


End file.
